


Operation Bliss

by roseprinted



Category: Lovely Little Losers, Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Dialogue Heavy, Future Fic, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-10-18 19:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10623384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseprinted/pseuds/roseprinted
Summary: "...Ben and Bea broke up.""Well, that's what they think." Hero corrects him. "But we're not going to let them."(In which Beatrice says no, Hero says no way and just like that Team Love Gods are back in business.)





	1. tormented with ten thousand hells

 

>   
>   "Think’st thou that I who saw the face of God  
>    
>  And tasted the eternal joy of heaven  
>    
>  Am not tormented with ten thousand hells  
>    
>  In being deprived of everlasting bliss?"
> 
> _\- The Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus,_ Act I, Scene III

 

Peter has been in the supermarket for an hour.

This is why he hates doing the shopping, and hates it even more since they moved into the flat. Every tiny decision is in some way important, like buying the wrong dishwash liquid or crunchy peanut butter rather than smooth might make Balth stop loving him, because what kind of boyfriend doesn’t have intimate knowledge of your sandwich preferences?

It’s been a very stressful evening, and so when his phone buzzes and Balthazar’s name flashes up, he assumes it’ll be something like _are you still alive, how long does it actually take one person to do this, I am starving to death_. It isn’t.

“Er, are you still at the shops?”

“Yeah, sorry, I got delayed, there was this thing with –“

 “ - sorry, it’s just,  can you come back, please? Ben’s here and he’s kind of freaking me out.”

Balthazar cut him off. He never does that.

 “That’s Ben, you know.”

“No, not like the normal way. I think he had a fight with Beatrice, a bad one, but he’s just not saying anything.”

“Ben isn’t saying anything?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m coming back now.” Peter leaves the half-empty basket on the floor and jogs toward the doors.

 

* * *

  

Balthazar meets Peter at the door. “Thanks man.”

“No worries. Is he in the bath?” Balthazar shakes his head. He offered, but Ben just stared at him. That’s when he rang Peter.

Once in the living room Peter sees Ben, awkwardly huddled on Balth’s ratty old beanbag. With his arms wrapped around himself and his chin on his knees, he seems more limb than ever. Peter drops down to the floor.

“Ben. What’s up?”

Ben raises his eyes and attempts a grin. It fails.

“I’m fine, Pedro. I just needed somewhere to be, and I was going for a walk but then it was raining, so…”

“Why did you need somewhere to be?” A shrug of the shoulders.

“Fight with Beatrice. She’s at the flat, so there you go.”

“What level of fight are we talking here?”

Peter has sat awkwardly through enough Bea and Ben arguments to know that they could cover anything from the existence of a god to why they didn’t have any clean spoons. They fight when they’re happy, sad, confused, turned on, often just bored. Baffling, but them.

“Big. Nuclear big, hole in the universe big.”

“…Wellington big?”

Ben nods and drops his head again, his fingers raking through his hair.

“Ben, man, you need to tell me what’s going on. Is everyone okay? No international incidents started? Do we need to go out and get you drunk? Come on.”

The silence is still the worrying thing. Then, Ben mumbles something into his knee.

“Bit louder there, Ben.”

“Proposed.”

Peter scoots back, surprised. He was not expecting that one. Now that he thinks to look, Ben is unusually tidy. Hell, he’s wearing a shirt on a Saturday.

“Ah. Right. And this was during the fight?”

“Before the fight. Caused the fight.”

Shit. The big question.

“Did she say no?”

There’s a little choked laugh, and Ben looks up at him and Peter doesn’t want to meet his eyes because he’s burning.

“No? She _annihilated_ me, Pedro. The full Beatrice Duke, stats and all. You’d think we’d stop having the relationships are dumb conversation but oh no, marriage is a patriarchal construct and homophobic and a middle class obsession, and by the way, who do I fucking think I fucking am, maybe thinking that this was a nice thing to do and, you know, normal, and not necessarily the end of the fucking world?”

He paints a picture. Peter can see it, the two of them screaming from opposite ends of their kitchen. Hero has always worried about their favourite bickering spot being so close to sharp knives and heavy pans. Just once, Peter thinks, just once.

Ben swallows, as if trying to collect himself. A tray descends from above and it’s Balthazar, bringing tea and a few crumbled jammie dodgers.

“Well, we don’t have any food, so…” he admits, when Peter catches his eye. He rests his hand on Ben’s shoulder, trying desperately to think of helpful things to say.

“Of course it’s normal, but Ben – well, what did she said about this before?”

The shrug is back.

“I don’t know. Like, I know what she used to think, but then she’s always really happy when other people get married, like at Leo’s wedding? And we were together so long…”

Balthazar winces, and Peter can’t believe he hasn’t asked that question yet, hasn’t even entertained the possibility.

“You broke up?”

“Pedro, when the love of your life throws a ring at your head it’s generally end of story.”

There is no way for them to respond to that, really. Because Ben is right. And tempers may have flared, and Benedick and Beatrice may be unable to do anything like normal people, but how many relationships come back from a rejected proposal? Balthazar looks at Peter and shivers. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

They sit there like that, crammed around the beanbag in silence. Ben stares into his tea; Peter and Balth stare at each other. This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but with Peter’s phone going off, and he jumps across the room to silence it, heart thumping. The name flashes, and he slips into the hall to call her back.

“Hero, hi.”

“Hi Peter. Are you whispering?”

“Yeah, it’s complicated.” He can hear low murmuring from Ben and Balth in the other room, but the walls of their flat are paper thin and he doesn’t know that he wants Ben hearing this conversation.

“Mmm. Is Ben at yours?”

“I – yes, he is actually.  Did you, did you need to speak to him?” _This is not exactly a good time_ he thinks, as well as _thank Christ you are much better equipped for this situation_.

“Better not. Has he told you what happened?”

“Yeah. His side of things, anyway.” He thinks of Beatrice, and his heart hurts.

“Well, I think they’re both being ridiculous. More so than usual, I mean. And more stubborn than usual, so we need to intervene.”

This is not sounding good to Peter. “How?”

“I’m not sure yet. But we have to do _something_ , and I’m stuck in stupid Wellington. I need you and Balthazar, Peter. This is a job for Team Love Gods.”

His stomach drops. Somehow, Hero has always had this gift for making people do things they don’t want to. Her voice at the other end of the phone, bright and steely, is impossible to disobey. Duke women: they run the world.

“Hero…”

“Peter, it’s Team B.” He’s going to regret this in the morning.

“Okay, okay. I’ll talk to Balth. But tomorrow, okay Hero? It’s getting late, and I need to get back to Ben.”

“Message me when you get up.”

“Will do, Hero.”

He hangs up, and leans his head in to the cool wall. This is not going to end well.


	2. proud, bold, pleasant, resolute

> "You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,
> 
> And now and then stab, as occasion serves."
> 
> -  _Edward the Second_ , Act II, Scene I

* * *

Nobody sleeps very well that night. As Peter and Balthazar lie in bed they can hear Ben through the wall, tossing and turning on the sofa. It’s horribly, peculiarly intimate.

At about four, Peter turns over to face Balth. “Do you think this is it?”

Balthazar yawns. “Don’t know. Hope not.”

“Hero thinks we have to do something. She called us Team Love Gods.”

Balth burrows his head into the pillow. “Promise. If we, us do that? No love gods. Not 'gain.” Peter loves him most when he's like this, half asleep in their bed and incomprehensible. Just because.

“I know,” Peter moves closer to him, presses a kiss to his shoulder. “But we have to do _something_. Ben can’t just live on our sofa for the rest of his life.”

“Mmm.” The flat is too small for two people and a piano, let alone two people, a piano and a Benedick.

Peter turns back, stares at the ceiling. “We’ll call her in the morning.”

* * *

 

At seven, they decide to give up and get up. Peter loses the coin toss and shuffles into the living room to see to Ben, whilst Balth hides in the bathroom to call Hero. Ben is splayed across their sofa, face down in the cushions.

“Hey, man. Tea?”

Ben yawns. “Please. Thanks, Pedro. For trying to help.”

Peter wonders if he’s still going to be saying that later today.

“So, I think we should do something this morning. Get out of the flat. Football? Something brotastic.” Ben has always been easy to distract, and even though it drives Peter up the wall it does come in handy sometimes.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Definitely. Tea, shower, hit the streets. Did you want to borrow some clothes?” Ben looks down at his crumpled shirt and sighs.

“I’ll bring you something. Stick with the trousers though; I don’t think we’ll have anything that fits you.”

He hands Ben the cup of tea and heads back to the bedroom, where Balthazar is peering into the mirror at his bloodshot eyes.

“Do we have any clothes that would fit Ben?”

Balth hums as he moves toward their chest of drawers. It’s a little hum he’s been doing all week, teasing out the details. “I think so. Hero’s Skype’ing everyone at nine, can you get Ben out of here by then?

“With physical force, if necessary. Who’s everyone?”

“Hero, me, Meg, Claudio. No-one can get hold of Ursula, but I think John’s involved somehow.” The general sense of impending doom hanging over Peter is getting worse as the day goes on.

“Balth, do you think that’s a good idea? Like, what are you going to do, trick them into getting back together?”

“I know, I know. But hey, it’s Beatrice and Benedick. The stuff of legend. We have to try, right?”

 _I need to try_.

Peter sighs and, taking the old t-shirt proffered, heads back to the living room. Balthazar returns to the mirror, hoping very much that he’s right.

* * *

 

Peter manages to get Ben washed, dressed and out of the flat in just under an hour, through a combination of flattery and shouting. Once the door is shut, Balthazar pulls his laptop across the coffee table and settles down.

Hero’s face appears on the screen.

“Finally!” Balthazar grins. She’s sat bolt upright on her floral bedspread, practically vibrating. After months of studying and essays, Hero has a project.

“Okay, now that Balthy’s here that’s all of us. Hello, Team Love Gods!”

Meg is still in bed, Balthazar notes, and John is half-submerged in darkness. It must be Saturday night in London.

“So, what’s going on guys?”

Claudio is smiling wide, and Balthazar’s heart sinks. Has Hero even told people what happened?

“Claud… Ben and Bea broke up.”

 “Well, that’s what they think.” Hero corrects him, that note of steel creeping back into her voice. “But we’re not going to let them.”

“No way.” Balthazar is surprised to hear Claudio offering his support so quickly. “What? Getting them together was so stressful!”

“We don’t have to trick them this time. They know how much they love each other, they just need to _talk_ about it. Communication. But the longer they avoid talking, the worse it’s going to get. And they will avoid it, if we let them.”

It’s quiet for a moment, until Balthazar speaks.

“It’s just… are we sure that they _can_ talk about it? Ben’s pretty hurt right now, Hero.”

Hero exhales, hair fluttering across her face. “I know. And Beatrice is too, I can tell, even though she’s pretending to be angry.”

Meg bites her lip. “If Bea’s in that kind of mood, talking to Ben might be the worst thing we could make her do.” Balth is inclined to agree. He’s seen an angry Bea fighting a broken Ben before, and has no desire to see it again.

“But we can’t just let them _break up_!” Hero’s voice is shrill through the speakers. “I don’t even understand what’s _happened_ , they can’t break up!”

Silence again.

“Well,” John says, quietly, “maybe you can act without acting.” All eyes move to him.

“I just mean that in all successful manoeuvres, the first stage is reconnaissance.”

Balthazar is confused, but Hero smiles. “John, you’re a genius.”

 _Oh God_ , thinks Balthazar, _please let this not be shenanigans_.

* * *

 

 “I don’t know… okay, Balth, okay. I’ll try.”

Peter hangs up the phone and runs his fingers through his hair. If you ask him, Team Love Gods have lost their touch over the years. This kind of scheming might have worked when they were seventeen but they’re twenty six, for Christ’s sake. Still, he promised, and promises are to be kept.

He walks back over towards the playing fields, scanning the horizon for Ben. Finally he spots him, a blue pile on the ground, football clutched to his chest. Peter drops the six pack on the grass and sits down next to him. He opens two of the beers, and passes one to Ben.

“Thanks. Hey, is it too early for us to be doing this?”

Peter shrugs. “Desperate times, desperate measures. And it’s after noon. Plus, I thought it might help to, you know, talk about it.”

 “I’m not sure, Pedro. I’m not really in the mood.”

“Come on, it’ll help. You’re the king of overshare, talking is your thing.” His hand slips down to his phone.

Ben makes a noise that falls somewhere between a snort and a groan.

“Well, to summarise, fell in love with girl at school, broke up with girl at uni, dropped out of uni, got back together with girl, did overseas, went back to uni, moved in with girl, proposed to girl, had heart broken by girl, drinking in the middle of a public park at lunchtime. It’s a glorious tale, Pedro.” Ben has his arm flung across his face.

“Break it down for me, Ben. You proposed. Was it a spur of the moment thing?”

Peter had always kind of expected that if Ben proposed it would be a spectacle, involving crowds and song and flamboyant speechmaking. That the great Hobbes-Duke proposal would be like a small-scale public festival, planned more intensely than any military invasion. Nobody has ever accused Ben of being low-key.

“Sort of. Like, I’d obviously thought about it, and then I kept walking past this jewellery place on Queen Street and looking at the same ring. It seemed like _Beatrice_ , you know? And I kept seeing it. So I saved up for a while, and I bought it in August.”

“You’ve been carrying a ring around for three months?” If you’d asked Peter the chances of Ben keeping a secret this size for three days, he would have laughed.

“No, I hid it at my parents’ house. I hadn’t worked out how I wanted to do it yet, and I didn’t want Bea to find it.”

“So… how did you do it?”

Ben’s arm is still across his eyes. “It was supposed to be perfect, you know. Epic. Memorable. But I couldn’t really work out how to do something with mango, so that was a problem. Not to mention the birds. And I was going through Marlowe for lines, which is kind of cheesy but good cheesy, yeah?”

“Good cheesy, right. Although I think proposals are generally remembered even when there’s no mango involved.”

“Well, yes. And then my mum told me that they were going to clear out my room and turn it into a home office, so I had to go and get the ring in case they ended up finding it. That was Saturday morning.”

“Yesterday morning?”

“Right.” Ben pauses, and finally opens his eyes. He looks at Peter and quirks his eyebrow; Peter offers him a smile which he hopes comes across as supportive rather than suspicious.

“After I came back, Bea wanted to go across to Messina and see the aunts, so we did that and we had lunch there. Leo and Liz were there, it was really nice to see them. Then we went over to Grey Lynn Park, and just walked around because it was sunny, and when it started getting cloudy we went home. We talked about going to a film or something last night, but it was still wet so Bea said-“ He stops, and swallows. Peter doesn’t try to prompt him.

“- Bea said, fuck it, let’s order pizza and watch something old and have sex on the sofa. And I thought, I love you. I love you and I love your family and I love talking to you and all I ever want to do is stay in with you and order pizza and watch things, and the sofa thing sounds excellent as well. And I finally had the ring. So I asked her to marry me.”

There’s a tightness in Peter’s stomach, like a fist clenching. He knows this kind of love: it’s the kind that he has with Balthazar. Where there are bad days, certainly, and Bea and Ben probably have more than most, but there are also good days, amazing boring days, where you find yourself looking at the other person and wondering why you ever leave the house.

The tears are visible in Ben’s eyes now, as he stares up at the sky.

“So, good job Ben. You dick.”

* * *

 

Peter texts later in the afternoon to say that they’re heading for food downtown and to come join. Balthazar bikes eastward, thankful that the rain is over and Auckland is sparkling in the sun. On some days he feels a restlessness, a yen to fly over the hills and out into the world. But most of the time he is content enough, with his life and his work and his Peter.

His phone buzzes and he stops at the side of the path to pull it out.

**_Hero Duke_ ** _created group **Operation Bliss**._

**_Hero Duke_ ** _: Updates here, please._

**_Peter Donaldson_ ** _: So Ben talked to me_

**_Peter Donaldson_ ** _: like not about everything but a lot_

**_Meg Winter_ ** _: video???_

**_Peter Donaldson_ ** _: It’s kind of long so I can’t upload it until we get home_

**_Hero Duke_ ** _: Beatrice’s phone is still off, but I’m trying._

Balthazar bites his lip. He worries about Bea when she goes off radar, like the final months of her degree when he’s pretty sure she actually moved into the library and stopped talking to anybody but Ben. He wants to text her, just to check she’s okay, but he isn’t sure how.

He finds Ben and Peter sprawled in their chairs outside a pub near the waterfront, caught in a heated discussion about the merits of time travel versus telepathy.

“Telepathy, pah,” scoffs Ben. He seems slightly more alive than he did this morning, at least. “Telepathy is overrated. Just people talking without sounds. Now tele _kinesis_ , that’s what I’m talking about.”

“What would you do with telekinesis, Ben?” Peter wonders, again, if this is the correct way to be handling the situation. Balthazar just wonders.

“I would be a _chick magnet_ , my friend. Birds of all shapes and sizes would flock to me. And I could fetch biscuits without having to go into the other room.”

“I’m not sure that’s how telekinesis works.” 

“Biscuits, Balthy. Think of the biscuits.” Balthazar bites back his smile.

Peter stretches. “Speaking of biscuits, shall we order food? I’m starving.”

“I’ll go.” Ben is up and out of his chair, gathering the empty glasses. “I’m getting a burger bigger than my head.”

* * *

 

Food was a good idea. Peter doesn’t think Ben had eaten anything since lunch with the Dukes the day before, and tea and beer don’t exactly count. He seems slightly less manic now, looking down at his phone with a slight frown.

“I’m going to stay at my parents’ this week.”

“I thought you said they were turning your room into an office?”

“They haven’t started yet, and this way I can help them sort things out.” Ben looks up from the phone and smiles. “Thanks for letting me stay, guys, but I should probably take the offer of an actual bed in a house with food.”

Balthazar feels a little guilty about his comment to Peter this morning. “Do you need anything?”

“Right now? Well, clothes I suppose. The kids are going to ask questions if I go to school in the same shirt all week. And, like, a toothbrush and razor and stuff. And, shit, all my marking’s at the flat.” He’s frowning again now, ticking items off on his fingers. “I could really do with my phone charger, as well, and my laptop. Christ, I’m going to have to call her, aren’t I?”

Balthazar looks down into his lap, wondering whether he should say this. “Not much point, man, her phone’s been off all day. Hero said.”

“Oh.”

“Could you, I don’t know, go over there when she’s at work tomorrow? Leave a note?”

“Maybe…”

Peter is busy messaging.

**_Peter Donaldson_ ** _: any update from Bea?_

**_Hero Duke_ ** _: Leo went over to the flat and got her, so she’s at my mums._

**_Hero Duke_ ** _: I talked to her a little bit but she won’t say anything about the proposal._

Peter looks up and catches Ben’s eye. “Talking about me?”

“Yeah. Listen, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but Bea’s at the Dukes. We could go over to your place now and pack a bag? You don’t even have to come in if you don’t want to, just tell us what you need.”

Ben sighs and pushes the heels of his hands into his sockets. Peter thinks for a moment that he’s crying again, but when he takes them away his eyes are dry. Sad, but dry.

“No, you’ll pick up the wrong things and I’ll have to go in anyway. I need to, at some point.”

Balthazar isn’t sure whether to admire Ben’s cool, or to be frightened by it. “Want us to come?”

“Yes. Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming next time: the other flat, oranges and yours sincerely Beatrice Duke.


	3. what shall I do thus wronged with disdain?

> “O love, O hate, O cruel womens hearts,
> 
> That imitate the Moon in every change,
> 
> And like the Planets ever love to range:
> 
> What shall I do thus wronged with disdain?"
> 
> _\- Dido Queen of Carthage_ , Act III, Scene III

Ben and Bea live not far from them, on the top floor of an old converted villa in Grey Lynn. Bea insists that she loves it because of the light, and Ben says it’s because she can pretend to be the heroine in a Victorian novel. Peter and Balthazar helped them move in, on that day of constant arguments. Leo claims they got to thirty four before calling truce, though Bea and Ben deny it.

Whenever he goes over there, Peter is always struck by how it could never be anybody else’s home. His place is new and boxy and kitted out from Ikea, with Balthazar’s instruments the only real sign that they live there. Bea and Ben’s flat is full of _them_ , the random bits of furniture they cadged from their families holding up stacks of books and the odd memorabilia that they surrounded themselves with as teenagers. There are postcards and clippings everywhere, and drawings by Hero and tonnes of photos. They must do a lot of dusting, Balth says.

Ben hesitates at the front door, as if steeling himself. “You’re sure she’s not here?”

“One hundred percent sure.” Hero, and by extension the rest of the Dukes, have strict instructions not to let Bea go home until the coast is clear.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

They head upstairs to the flat, and Peter feels oddly like he’s approaching the scene of a crime, that he doesn’t know what he’ll find. He can only imagine how Ben feels. The pictures in their hallway can’t be helping: the first thing you see when you open the door is a framed shot of Ben’s graduation, where he has Beatrice wrapped inside his gown with his mortarboard on her head. They have Cheshire cat grins; they could conquer the world.

“Right, well I’m going to go and pick up some clothes.” Ben is practical, business like, definitely not looking at the wall. “Could you guys get my marking? I left it on the kitchen table.”

“Sure thing.”

They head into the kitchen and Peter’s stomach flips. There are dishes by the sink and an open tin of tea by the kettle and there, in the middle of the counter, a small blue velvet box. It’s like walking onto the Mary Celeste.

“Oh, Jesus.” He moves to pocket the ring, but jumps back at the last moment. He’s not exactly sure of the protocol in these situations. He’s not exactly sure what these situations are.

Balth nudges him and points to the far wall. There are long streaks of yellow down the white paint, as if someone’s been throwing eggs.

 “Mandarins.” Ben is behind them, bag in hand.

“Mandarins?”

“After she’d thrown the box across the room, she moved onto the fruit bowl. And it turns out most of our fruit was a bit old. Result: exploding mandarins.”

He picks up the laptop and stack of papers from the kitchen table, which are only lightly spattered in yellow. Peter clears his throat.

“Ben. About… the ring.”

Ben turns at once, looks straight at the box. He knows exactly where it was left.

“Could you grab it for me please, Pedro?” And with that he’s out of the room, and Peter is left lost, looking at Balthazar.

“This,” says Balth, “is really, really shitty.”

Peter concurs.

They wait by the door whilst Ben writes a note. He writes seven, actually, tearing them up and stuffing the pieces into his pockets as he goes. Finally, he manages to finish one and leaves it on the table, in the space his laptop left.

“Right. We’ll take my car.”

* * *

 

When they get home that evening, Peter heads straight to the fridge and pulls out two beers. They sit on the sofa in silence, until Balthazar says “you know, we never did go shopping.”

Peter laughs, leaning back against the cushions. “Oh, God. No, we didn’t. I could run out?”

Balth shakes his head, sliding into Peter’s side. “Not right now. I can go after choir tomorrow, we’ll be fine.”

It feels so normal, to be sat there like that on a Sunday evening, apart from the fist still low in Peter’s stomach and the niggling sense that Balthazar has of something being _wrong_. Like everything has shifted very slightly to the left. If it wasn’t so late and their neighbours weren’t so close he’d try and put it into something, but it is and they are. He picks at his cuticles.

Their phones both go off at once, as is becoming normal.

**_Hero Duke_ ** _: Leo says Beatrice has gone home._

**_Meg Winter_ ** _: how is she?_

**_Hero Duke_ ** _: A little better. We Skype’d this evening. I’m uploading the video now so I’ll email it over to you._

**_Peter Donaldson_ ** _: I need to do that too._

He pulls up the video he took in the park this afternoon, and looks down at Balthazar. “Want to watch too?”

Balthazar nods, jabs at the screen, and can just see shadowy grass and bright white sky until Ben starts talking.

* * *

 

“ _… so I asked her to marry me.”_ Beat. _“So, good job Ben. You dick._ ”

Balth leans back, rubbing a sleeve across his eyes.

“And then she threw _oranges_ at him. What the fuck, Pete?”

“I know, I know.” Peter is a little baffled by this himself, really. He can sort of understand why Beatrice turned Ben down, and God knows he can see a fight. That proud, spiky streak in her comes out in odd ways when she’s stressed. But he doesn’t like that Ben’s accepting it, he doesn’t like that he hasn’t heard from her and he’s starting to feel like maybe this is something too much for them to fix. A little voice keeps echoing in the back of his head, Freddie’s words from years ago, _people do break up you know_.

Balthazar is fiddling with his phone.

“Hero’s video incoming.” He looks up at Peter. “Want to watch, or is that enough emotional shit for one day?”

“Let’s watch it. We’ll only be thinking about it if we don’t.” He gulps down another mouthful of beer.

Balthazar taps the screen, and Bea appears. His first, fleeting thought is that she looks like Ben: bent small around a mug in what looks like Hero’s old bedroom. Her face is red, and her eyes too, and her blonde hair is tangled at the ends. She looks miserable.

“ _Hi_.” Hero’s voice is soft. “ _Hi, how are you_?”

“ _I’m okay Hero. I’m fine_.”

“ _No, you’re not_.”

Bea gives a great, shuddering sob. “ _No_.”

“ _Beatrice, just… look, if you don’t want to tell me what happened then you don’t have to. I’ll stop. But you’re so upset, and Ben’s gone, and I just want to know how to make it better_.”

Bea puts her mug on the bedside table, and Balthazar knows she’s going to talk because she always needs her hands free when she talks. “ _Ben proposed. Marriage, he proposed marriage. To me_.”

“ _And you said no._ ”

“ _Hero, I’ve been saying no since I was twelve. I’ve always said it’s outdated and cold and there’s nothing in it for me, not to mention it perpetuates some really idiotic stereotypes of love, and women, and all the rest. And Ben knows that, he knows it, so why the fuck would he just ask me out of the blue, like he’s granting a favour? Like this whole time has just been building up to him deciding I was worth keeping, and then telling me? I don’t fucking get it, I don’t fucking get him_.”

“ _He loves you, Beatrice. He loves you so much_.”

Bea stares at her hands.

“ _I feel like I don’t know him. Or he doesn’t know me, or both. Like if he suddenly hated tea, or voted NZF, or, or asked my dad for permission and how many goats for the dowry, or something_.”

Peter makes a mental note to check that Ben did not, in fact, ask her father for permission because that really would be the final nail in the coffin.

“ _I think he just wants to spend the rest of his life with you. And maybe have a big party to tell everybody that, probably with dancing and poetry and a lot of cake, because he’s Benedick._ ”

“ _But I never wanted that Hero, never. I don’t want for everybody I know to be staring at me in some stupid expensive dress while I tell a God I don’t believe in that I’ll always feel the same way I do today._ ” Bea’s palms are open, but she’s still not looking at the camera. Peter knows this Beatrice; sixteen again.

“ _I don’t think that you have to_ -“

“ _And if Ben does want that, and I don’t, then that’s kind of it, isn’t it? Different lives. Different people_.”

“ _Beatrice, I understand where you’re coming from, I do, but why did you not just tell Ben all of this? I’m sure you can work something out. I don’t think it’s housewife or break up, those aren’t the only options._ ” There’s a little edge in Hero’s voice now, a tone of _why must you always make things so difficult_.

“ _I know_.” Bea is looking across the room now, eyes moving, not like the dead stare of Ben earlier.

Balthazar makes a little noise. “She’s not telling her something.”

“ _I think,_ ” Bea starts again, “ _I think I’m going to go home now and try to sleep. Work in the morning and all_.”

“ _Okay_. _I love you. And keep your phone on, yes?_ ”

“ _Yes. Love you too._ ”

The screen goes black.

* * *

 

**_Claudio Comte_ ** _: and THAT’S why they broke up???_

**_John Fitz-Donaldson_ ** _: I think this is the stupidest fight they’ve ever had._

**_Meg Winter_ ** _: I mean ben made us live in a tent_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming next time: Pokemon cards, coffee and Team Love Gods move to phase two.


	4. we know not how to vow

 

> We know not how to vow, ‘til love unblind us,
> 
> And vows made ignorantly never bind us.
> 
> Too true it is that when t'is gone men hate
> 
> The joys as vain they took in loves estate.
> 
> \- _Hero and Leander,_ 3rd Sestyad

 

Peter heads into work the next day slightly hungover, done in by the stress as much as the beer. It’s a wonder that any of them made it through high school, really, or that first year in Wellington.

The day passes somehow, as he bounces round emails and picks at proposals. Usually he likes his job, even if Auckland Council isn’t exactly the United Nations. Today his brain is elsewhere, or in many elsewheres, scattered across the city.

**_Claudio Comte_ ** _: this feels so weird_

**_Hero Duke_ ** _: I know. I can’t focus on anything today._

**_Balthazar Jones_ ** _: Same._

**_Peter Donaldson_ ** _: Saaaame_

They agree not to text Ben for a few days, to give him some time to wallow. If he wants them, he’ll let them know. His message arrives on Wednesday, just before lunchtime.

**_Ben Hobbes_ ** _: going stir crazy at home. do something this week?_

They end up back in the same pub they went to on Sunday. It’s cheap, cheerful and close to Peter’s office ( _Bea’s too_ , he thinks). Balthazar’s final student of the day is at Ben’s school in Ponsonby, so Ben gives him a lift in. This is so normal, the routine so established, that Balthazar almost forgets the situation. Not quite, because he’s reminded the minute he sees him, the frown and the ashen skin.

They sit alone, eyes on the television and eyes on the table. Peter decides to break the silence. Balthazar slides a finger over his phone.

“So…how you doing, bro?”

Ben traces a finger around the rim of his bottle. “Eh. Not great. Not terrible, like I can get to work and everything. Not sure it’s hit yet, to be honest.”

“You’re not sleeping,” Balthazar offers, quiet.

“No. As it turns out, returning to the bedroom where you fell in love with the girl in the first place is… it’s not the best.”

“Oh.”

“I miss her, I guess. I haven’t seen her for five days. And I keep thinking I see her everywhere. Every blonde in Auckland thinks I’m a creep.” Balth saw that on the way in, actually, how hyperaware he was of fair haired women in business clothes. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume a fetish.

“That was true before, Benno.”

“And I never thought I’d say this, but this is really _not_ the time to be teaching Marlowe.” He pushes back his sleeves. “’ _It lies not in our power to love or hate/for will in us is overruled by fate./When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,/We wish that one should love, the other win._ ’ Bloody Marlowe. The year elevens think I’ve lost it.”

* * *

 

Peter agrees to head over to Ben’s on Saturday. Balth is teaching all day, and Ben asked for help clearing through his old room. He’s keeping himself busy, and Peter hopes that’s good.

He hasn’t been to this house for years now, and it’s funny coming back. Ben’s room hasn’t changed: it’s emptier, but there’s still posters on the wall and piles of odd little things everywhere. The clothes that Ben brought with him sit on a chair in the corner, with a flamingo perched on top of them. Peter wonders whether Floyd never made it to the flat, or if Ben brought him back here on purpose. He suspects the latter.

Ben is halfway under his bed, and struggling by the sound of things. After a minute he emerges, panting, dragging a cardboard box.

“Hey, Pedro. Do you know how I got this much _stuff_?”

Peter does, actually. For as long as he’s known Ben he’s collected things from everywhere they go: pebbles and beer mats and interesting looking twigs. Beatrice refuses to wash his clothes, says she doesn’t know what she’ll find in the pockets.

“I’ve been reading a lot of _Lifehacker_ , since I have nothing else to do, and I think I’ve mastered the basic principles. Over here, we have a pile of things I want to keep, or my parents might want to keep. Then over here, stuff for the op shop. And finally, crap to get rid of.” He sweeps an arm over the room.

“How much are you going to keep?”

Ben wrinkles his nose. “Not sure yet. The less the better, I guess. Seeing as I don’t even know where I’ll end up living.”

Peter doesn’t know where to begin. He changes the subject. “Right, so you take that box and I take this one?”

* * *

 

Ben has some weird shit.

Peter thought he’d seen most of it, with the flamingos and that horse lamp thing and the general detritus that swims around in Ben’s wake. It turns out they hadn’t even begun to plumb the depths.

“Chuck!”

“I agree, but why do you have so many Pokemon cards exactly?”

“Why would that shock you?” He has a point.

Peter leafs through the cards. “God, I’d forgotten about these things.” His fingers catch on something. “O _kay_. Ben, these condoms weren’t in the Pokemon cards box when we were kids, right?”

Ben lunges across the sofa toward him, red-faced. Peter laughs, holding the box out of reach.

“Oh whatever, Pedro. Like you didn’t hide yours somewhere weird.” Ben flops back on the bed. Still chuckling, Peter adds the tin to the pile on the floor and moves onto the next crate. They were under the mattress, actually.

He rifles through the box in silence for a few minutes, until -

“I really thought we’d turn out alright.” Ben’s voice floats up to him, wistful. “I spent – God, I thought about her _all the time_. And after we came back to Auckland, after Wellington and after OE, we spent so much time here. My parents, never around, and we were both working loads so she used to sneak over at night. Because, we were adults and all but, well, you know Leo. And the aunts. And I thought that was the worst, that we’d got through all the crap.”

Peter doesn’t know what to do.

“I’ve been in love with her for half my life, Pedro.” And his voice catches, and when Peter sits he twists to the side and cries into his collar.

**_Peter Donaldson_ ** _: Check your emails. I think Ben finally cracked_

**_Hero Duke_ ** _: Oh my gosh._

* * *

 

Ben doesn’t go to school for the last few weeks of term. Most days he doesn’t even manage to get out of bed, unless his parents badger him into it or one of them goes over there to drag him out. His dad marches him to the doctor, but there’s not much point. Diagnosis: heartbreak.

They stop recording him. It feels too much, too sad. Hero says the same is true of Beatrice but she’s carried on, because of the something missing, the something Beatrice won’t tell her. It weighs on her mind. It weighs on Balthazar’s mind, too.

He gets home late one night, after going over to Ben’s with some stuff from the school. One of the faculty teachers took him aside to ask, hushed, whether he thought Ben would be fit to return after the Christmas holidays. Balth assures her there won’t be any problems, and he wants to believe it.

When he gets home Peter is hunched over his laptop at the kitchen table.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Oh, you know, spreadsheets of doom.” Peter pushes the computer away and stretches back in his chair. “How’s Ben?”

“The same. Pete, I was thinking…” Peter nods, go on, “…I kinda miss Beatrice. I just want to know how she is”

He managed to text her once or twice, just _how are you_ , but nothing.

Peter turns to face him. “It’s so weird that you just said that.”

“Why?” Balthazar doesn’t think it’s that weird.

“I saw her today.”

* * *

 

He’s waiting in a coffee shop, idly scanning the boards, when he sees her two ahead of him in the queue. Without even thinking about it, he asks.

“Beatrice?” She jumps.

“Oh. Hi.” They stare at each other. This is not normal, none of this is normal.

“Do you want to… do you have time to get a drink? Catch up?”

She glances at her phone, and then at the door, as if she’s deciding whether to bolt. “I really…”

“Please, Bea. I miss you.”

“Okay.” He smiles. She doesn’t.

They make their way to a table by the window, and he watches as she adds three packets of sweetener to her coffee.

“How are you?” She looks up, and this time she at least attempts a smile.

“Oh, you know. Bad.”

“I was trying to call you.” He stopped when Ben got worse. He can only try to fix so many people at once, and Beatrice has Hero and Meg and Leo and the aunts and her mum. Ben has his parents, sort of, but really he just has them.

“My phone was off for a while. Afterwards.”

“Afterwards? She shakes her head.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Peter. I guess Ben’s told you anyway, so I don’t want to talk about it. It’s bad enough that it happened.”

This maybe isn’t entirely what he was expecting. There’s a sense of resignation that frightens him; he’s not sure he wants to live in a reality that Beatrice Duke isn’t fighting.

“I don’t think that he meant it the way you think he did.” He has to try, at least, now that she’s here.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, stares into her cup.

Peter scratches his ear, wondering what would ever happen to these two without divine intervention. All for one, and one for all. “You should call him.”

“I can’t,” she stops. “I can’t. You didn’t see the look on his face when he left, Peter. When he looked at me. I _fucked up_.” And with that she’s up and out, blonde hair whipping around her as the door slams shut.

* * *

 

“That,” says Balthazar, “is quite fucked up, actually.”

“Yeah.”

Peter is still turning Beatrice’s words over in his head. He’s glad, so glad, that the Christmas holidays are here. Hero’s back tomorrow, and she wants an emergency meeting of Team Love Gods within twenty four hours.

**_Hero Duke_ ** _: But it can’t be at my mums’ because Beatrice is here._

**_John Fitz-Donaldson_ ** _: I don’t get back until Christmas Eve._

**_Peter Donaldson_ ** _: people can come to ours but you might need to bring your own glasses_

**_Balthazar Jones_ ** _: And chairs._

* * *

 

They squeeze into the living room somehow. Hero brings cookies and Meg brings rum, and Balthazar remembers to buy plastic cups and paper plates even though it makes him feel bad.

Hero claps her hands. “So. Updates, anyone?”

“Every time I try to ask Bea how she’s feeling, she just shuts me down,” Meg grumbles.

“Ben too.” Balthazar is tired of talking to him when he’s like this, when he’s being seventeen.

Claudio makes a noise of disgust. “I can’t believe we’re doing this all over again.”             

“Look!” They do, up at Hero, where she’s perched on top of the sofa. “I know, this isn’t working. But does anybody have any ideas?”

There is a silence. Fuck it, Peter thinks. “So something weird happened when I ran into Beatrice yesterday.”

And he recounts his tale to the rest of them, whilst Claudio makes more of his ‘extra special Claudio Libres’. How she wouldn’t look him in the eye, and how she left. How she fucked up.

Meg cocks her head to one side. “To be honest, Ped, that’s more than she’s opened up to me.”

“It sounds like you struck a nerve, actually,” Hero says, thoughtful.

“Right.” What good does that do any of them?

“Maybe,” John’s voice crackles from Hero’s phone, “you should talk to her again. See if you can understand where she’s coming from?”

Peter groans, and pushes hands into his eyes. This is exactly how he didn’t want this to go. Also, he’s pretty sure that the extra special ingredient in this drink is just more rum. Balthazar understands, reaches for his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I can take Ben. I’m pretty good at getting him to shower now.”

“And I’ll help,” Claudio volunteers from the corner.

Peter looks at Balth, and smiles. He’s a good one. “You sure?”

“Sure.”

“Then we got this. Love Gods out.”

**_Peter Donaldson_ ** _: Hey, Queen Bea. Coffee again some time?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Afraid that I probably cant update for another few weeks after this weekend because of life - I'm sorry!
> 
> Coming next time: Christmas, pyjamas and a montage.


	5. by a forged challenge they met

> Why, what of them?”
> 
> I will not say that by a forged challenge they met.
> 
> She has confess’d and we are both undone.
> 
> _\- The Jew of Malta_ , Act IV

 

Balthazar’s not sure that he actually does have this, but he tries. He drags Ben out of the house two days before Christmas to do his shopping. Balthazar knows Ben’s parents won’t care if they don’t get presents; he also knows that Ben will care, one day, when he gets better.

He’s meeting Peter at four to pick up some last minute stuff for his family, and they appear to be getting absolutely nowhere. They’re in the basement of a bookshop on O’Connell Street, where Ben pokes through a pile of coffee table books without much enthusiasm.

“So, who are we buying for here, Ben?” It’s almost two already, by Balthazar’s watch.

“Mum, dad, my cousins. That’s it really.” He looks up, sharp. “I mean, uh, I can’t really – you guys – when you’re here.”

Balthazar swallows. “Nothing for…”

Ben moves his gaze away again, focuses on a spine on the shelf. “No, Balthy. Nothing else.”

Balthazar nods, and moves on. _You are a coward_ , he tells himself, a _cowardly cowardly coward_.

 

* * *

 

Peter is a few streets away, inspecting the window display at Smith & Caughey’s. He still isn’t sure which one of them pulled the short straw: Balthazar having to go shopping _with_ Ben or him having to go shopping _for_ Ben.

 _We can’t just not get him anything, not this year_ Balthazar said to Peter, and Peter agreed. Now it seems that nothing at all was actually right. Every album is full of love songs. Every DVD he picked up has an epic romance plotline that he couldn’t stomach handing over. Ben has no attention span for books at the moment, and alcohol would probably be sending the wrong message.

“Hey, Peter,” he hears from behind, and turns. It’s Hero and Beatrice, laden with bags. Hero smiles wide at him, and Beatrice a little.

“Hey, guys. Doing your Christmas shopping?”

Hero waves a bag, from that delicatessen on Federal Street. “Just some last minute bits. How about you?”

“Yeah, just trying to –“ he catches Beatrice “ – waiting for Balth to finish so we can pick something up for his nephews.”

“Oh, well, Beatrice could keep you company if you’re waiting?” asks Hero, a glint in her eyes. “I really need to go to the florist, and Bea hates coming with me.”

“I don’t really –“

Peter cuts Beatrice off, before she can start. “That would be great, thanks Bea.” That look of resignation, again.

Hero practically skips off down the street, and Peter looks down at Beatrice. “Come on. I’ll buy you a drink, and if you’re nice to me I’ll throw in cake.”

* * *

 

The CBD is full of last minute shoppers, but they find a table at a café around the corner and squeeze themselves in.

“So. Not going to storm out on me, this time?”

She sighs, pushes her hair back from her face. “Sorry, Pedro. I was in a bad mood, okay? I’m sorry.”

“No problem.” He extends a hand across the table. “Look, Bea, I get it. You guys just broke up, you feel like shit. I just think you should talk about it, that’s all.”

“Yeah.” She looks down at his hand, but doesn’t take it.

“Will you?” He spends his entire life on a wire at the moment, trying to judge if what he says is too much or not enough. It’s exhausting.

She fidgets in her seat, but that’s it. Still no eyes. Then.

“I never told you that I got a job in Christchurch.”

That was unexpected. “You’re moving? To Christchurch?” She shakes her head.

“No, this was a few months ago. A recruiter rang me up out of the blue; they’d kept one of my CVs from when I was graduating on file and they had this position. And I went out there to see them, and they liked me, and they offered it to me.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said no. It was a good offer, more my kind of cases. Same money, which goes further down there. But I didn’t want to leave. And I didn’t want to ask Ben to leave.” She stutters on the last sentence, on his name.

“He would have, you know.” Ben would go to the moon for Beatrice. That much has never been in doubt.

“I know.” She looks up at him at last, eyes blue under that frown.

“So…” He isn’t quite sure what’s happening here, but at least she’s still sat opposite him.

“Don’t you ever get scared, Peter? Of what’s going to happen?”

“Sure, of course.” Every single damn day, when he looks at his phone and looks at Balthazar and looks at Ben.

“No, really scared. Because we used to have a plan, didn’t we? Do well at school, graduate, travel, do well at uni, graduate again, get a good job. And then what?”

“Then life, Bea.” And happiness, he thinks. That’s the plan.

“So what does that look like?”

He doesn’t know, so he has to ask. “Does it have Ben in it?”

She breaks his gaze. “I thought so.”

 **_Peter Donaldson_ ** _: I need you to ask Bea something_

 **_Hero Duke_ ** _: OK?_

 **_Peter Donaldson_ ** _: did she actually say no?_

* * *

 

Balthazar’s second try is on Boxing Day. He and Peter finally manage to escape the clutches of his family, and they swing by Ben’s with his present. In the car, they make a pact. They’re not leaving until they’ve talked sense into Benedick.

Ben is surprised when they arrive. “Oh, thanks, guys. You didn’t have to.”

“We didn’t,” Peter agrees, handing the wrapped package across. He gave up and bought Spiderman pyjamas, like Ben’s five.

“And we don’t expect anything from you,” Balthazar jumps in, remembering the previous encounter. “Obviously.”

“Thanks. Thanks, these are cool.”

Silence descends, as it does so often nowadays. It isn’t easy maintaining a conversation, Peter thinks, when one of you never leaves the house.

“So, Ben. Good Christmas?”

In the end they make their excuses and leave, no further along than they were before. Balthazar flops into the passenger seat. “I’m terrible at this.”

“It’s not just you.” Peter straps his seatbelt across. “I’m drawing a complete blank as well.”

They sit for a few moments staring at each other, until their phones buzz.

 **_Hero Duke_ ** _: She didn’t say no._

* * *

 

Team Love Gods assemble at the Donaldson house this time, and Balthazar wonders if they’ll ever again hang out just because they like each other. They’re in Peter’s old bedroom, spread across the bed and floor, and now it really does feel like they’re still in high school.

“So, she didn’t say no?” Ursula’s voice floats out from the laptop speakers; she’s finally managed to get proper internet access somewhere in Laos.

“I don’t think she ever actually answered.” Hero is sucking on the ends of her hair, staring down at the screen. “She just got angry about the question being asked in the first place.”

“Classic Beatrice.” Balthazar can feel the tension radiating from Meg, from her legs slung across his lap.

“It came so soon after the Christchurch thing – which, by the way, did she ever tell _anybody_ about that? – and I think she was confused and didn’t know what she was doing, and then Ben slaps her with a proposal.”

 “She gets upset when she’s not on top of things,” Peter says. Balth has a hand on his shoulder. They’ve been talking about this, middle of the night conversations, trying to make sense of what happened. Balthazar would just like to be able to sleep again.

Hero raps her knuckles against the laptop. “This is just so _stupid_.”

“Agreed.” Meg swings her legs away from Balthazar. “Like, not to go all Jane Austen on you, but that is not how you answer a proposal.”

Peter laughs, despite himself. John is stretched across the back of the bed, curled around Hero’s knee. “Hang on, let me catch up. So Ben proposes, Beatrice freaks, she yells at Ben, Ben leaves, Beatrice regrets it but will never actually tell him that because…”

“Pride,” says Meg.

“Guilt,” says Peter.

“I think she’s just afraid he’ll tell her it’s too late,” says Balthazar, and Hero nods.

“…and so Ben will live in his parents’ house forever.” Claudio finishes.

John whistles. “Those two really need a good therapist.” Hero nods again.

“So,” Ursula again, from the static screen, “who’s going to tell them what really happened?”

Peter looks around the room, until he meets Balthazar’s eyes.

“No. No, absolutely not.”

* * *

 

On the morning of New Year’s Eve, the sleeping Benedick doesn’t have a chance.

Claudio grabs him by the hands and Peter by the feet, and between them they swing him out of his bed. He twists and tucks but they’re having none of it, dragging him down the hallway without a word until they deposit him in the bathtub. Peter locks the door.

“Good morning sunshine!” Claudio beams.

“What the fuck, Claud? I had a shower yesterday.”

“Only when Balth made you,” Peter snorts. “This, Benedick Hobbes, is a bathtub of emotions. And you, you are in it.”

Ben glares up at him. “Against my will.”

Peter reaches into his bag for his tablet. “It’s the last day of the year, and I have a golden, once in a lifetime opportunity. I need ten minutes of your time.”

“…okay? What the fuck, Pedro, like what are you actually-”

“Things might get emotional. But everything will be better in the end. Pedro promise.”

“ _Pedro_ promise?”

“Yes. Pedro promise.” Ben frowns.

“Fine. This is weird, but fine.”

“Right. Take this.” And he hands Ben the tablet.

 **_Claudio Comte_ ** _: Project bathtub is go_

 **_Hero Duke_ ** _: Project Teacup is go._

 **_Balthazar Jones_ ** _: This is weird._

 “Press play.” Ben does, and Balthazar’s face appears.

 **_Balthazar_ ** _: Hey Ben._

Peter’s face joins his.

 **_Peter:_ ** _And hi, Beatrice._

Ben tries spinning to Pedro, but is hampered by the bath. “ _J’accuse_! Pedro, what are you doing?”

Peter frowns at him. “Pedro promise _._ Now shut up, for ten minutes, just shut up.” Hero is onscreen now.

 **_Hero_ ** _: We wanted to make you a video, one last time, because the past month has been horrible._

 **_Peter_ ** _: And we think that you’ve both been handling it pretty badly._

Meg appears from the left.

 **_Meg_ ** _: Like, really badly._

 **_Balthazar_ ** _: You know, you guys are supposed to be all about the communication._

 **_Hero_ ** _: And that hasn’t been happening. So we thought we’d go back to the beginning. Communication, Team Blessed style._

They’re all in the frame now, even John, and you can see half of Ursula’s face in the laptop screen.

 **_Claudio_ ** _: That’s why Ben’s in a bath._

 **_Meg_ ** _: And Bea’s in Hero’s bedroom. By the way Bea, I’ll get off when you stop trying to escape._

Balthazar pulls his ukulele into shot, and strums. Ben glares at Peter.

 **_Balthazar:_ ** _I’m not gonna sing, ‘cause I didn’t really have time to write anything. But we need some background music, so I’m doing that._

 **_Peter_ ** _: And we’re narrating. So let’s go back to the beginning._

They cut to a photo that Peter had never seen, before Hero pulled it out. Fourteen year old Benedick and Beatrice, sat on top of a pile of rocks at the beach, heads turned to each other. They’re deep in discussion. Over the shot, Balthazar starts to play. _There’s no way, to tell you…_

 **_Peter_ ** _: These two are idiots._

Bea and Ben, slapping at each other’s arms.

 ** _Peter:_** _They’ve been idiots for the last twenty years, so we’re never going to cure them now_.

A photo from Beatrice’s last birthday party, the one where Ben accidentally set Leo on fire.

 **_Peter_ ** _: However, after years being friends with these idiots, we’ve worked out a few things._

Team Love Gods, in Hero’s bedroom.

 **_Peter_ ** _: Beatrice likes to be in control, and she likes to be right._

Bea grinning at the camera, laser-pointing at Ben.

 **_Peter_ ** _: When Beatrice isn’t in control, she gets upset._

Bea shouting at Claudio, Ben’s eyes fixed on her.

 **_Peter_ ** _: And she doesn’t like admitting that she’s wrong._

Bea against the pillar, face gurning.

 ** _Peter_** _: Now Ben, Ben likes grand gestures_.

Ben and Balthazar in the garden.

 **_Peter_ ** _: And being impulsive._

Ben jumping on Claudio’s back.

 **_Peter_ ** _: Ben’s doesn’t always understand why other people don’t like that._

Freddie yelling at Ben.

 **_Hero_ ** _: But they fell in love._

Ben and Bea at the picnic. Truth or Dare.

 **_Hero_ ** _: Even though they’re both idiots. And we love them, for being idiots._

Both of them wading into the room, laden with pillows.

 **_Hero_ ** _: And they’ve had hard times before, and they got through them._

Close-up of the rules.

 **_Hero_ ** _: Once they actually talked to each other._

Ben and Bea in a bath.

 **_Hero_ ** _: So, since they won’t talk to each other, we’ll have to spell it out._

Bea and Ben in the courtyard.

 **_Peter_ ** _: Ben, proposing to Beatrice was a stupid thing to do. You can’t corner people and ask them to make decisions about the rest of their life on demand. You should have talked to her properly._

 **_Hero_ ** _: Beatrice, yelling never ever helps. You needed to tell Ben why you were freaked out._

 **_Peter_ ** _: And don’t throw things at people. Now, Ben, you probably shouldn’t have left so soon._

 **_Hero_ ** _: And Beatrice, you should’ve called him to apologise when you knew you made a mistake._

 **_Peter_ ** _: Really, this would all have been fixed if one of you just apologised._

 **_Hero_ ** _: So we’re doing it for you. Ben, Beatrice is sorry that she yelled at you._

 **_Peter_ ** _: Beatrice, Ben is sorry that he frightened you._

 **_Hero_ ** _: You two have a lot of communication problems. We think you should work on that. Because at the end of the day, it’s fate._

Ben and Beatrice, the day they moved into the flat. Bea jumps out of an empty box to scare him, and falls flat on her face. Ben helps her up, laughing.

 **_Peter_ ** _: Idiots._

And they fade to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming next time: Beatrice, Benedick and a courtyard.


	6. the gods to witness

> My friend, take here my hand,
> 
> Which is as much as if I swore by heaven,
> 
> And call'd the gods to witness of my vow.
> 
> Thus shall my heart be still combin'd with thine
> 
> \- _Tamburlaine the Great_ , Part 1, Act I, Scene II

He leans across to whisper in Hero’s ear.

“I don’t like this.”

She puts an arm around his waist and squeezes hard. “I know. But what choice do we have, Balthazar? I won’t let them mess this up again.”

It’s been almost ten years since he was last sat here, sprawled across a picnic bench, but it feels like nothing’s changed at all. He’s probably late for English. Hero has her eyes fixed on her phone, scanning through messages, while John fiddles absent-mindedly with the camera. They’re all caught in time, just waiting for the bell.

There’s a rustle of leaves, and Dogberry appears by the side of the path.

“Okay, we’re all set. Action stations in ten.”

John hoists the camera onto one shoulder and Balth has to smile at just how little has changed.

“Why are you here again?”

He shrugs. “John doesn’t have a good enough head for heights. And my mum works at the school, so that helped.”

“You’re a good guy, Hugh." 

Dogberry grins as he takes the camera from John. “Thank you, Stanley.”

They disappear back into the trees, and Balthazar turns to Hero. “You’re really sure about all this?”

“After the amount of our lives that they’ve filmed, this is payback.” Hero looks up from her phone and smiles. “Plus, think how adorable it’ll be when we play it at their wedding.”

Balth runs his hands through his hair. She has a lot more confidence in this plan than he does. “Alright. Okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

Beatrice sits in the courtyard.

Hero squeezes her hand, kisses the top of her head, “let boldness be your friend, Beatrice.” And then they’re gone.

 “ _Oh, fuck_.”

“ _Hi_.”

“ _Sorry, I just – wasn’t quite expecting, that’s all_.”

“ _Pedro told you I would be here, didn’t he_?”

“ _Yes, but – yes. I don’t know_.”

“ _Sit down_.” Ben does, and Hero finally exhales. It’s a few minutes before Beatrice speaks again, a few minutes of them both staring determinedly down at the table. Then:

“ _Did they make you watch the video?”_

Ben snorts. “ _Yeah. I thought I was supposed to be the dramatic one?”_

 _“Mmm.”_ Beatrice looks up to him. “ _Do you think they were right?”_

John slides back in next to Hero, and Balthazar tilts the laptop toward him. Ben doesn’t reply straight away.

_“You tell me, Bea. I don’t know what’s happening at all right now.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“No, I’m sorry. I’m really, I’m so sorry. I was such a bitch, and then I yelled at you. You were just…”_

_“Being a dick?”_

_“No.”_ His forehead crinkles; it’s all they can see of his face.

_“No, Ben. You weren’t. You were just you.”_

_“Ah. That.”_

_“And I love you.”_

Balthazar reaches out to take Hero’s hand.

_“Okay.”_

_“Ben, please. Please look at me.”_

It takes him a while, but he does.

_“I do love you, and I’m sorry. I just – I got stuck. And I wasn’t expecting it, and I got stuck.”_

“ _Is this about that job?_ ” Hero jumps.

“ _I – sort of_.”

“ _Why? Beatrice, I said you should go. It was a good offer.”_

 “ _Because I didn’t know what I wanted to do. And you told me to go with what I wanted to do. And it’s not like you could’ve come with me, before you got certification, but then I was staying for you and I’m not sure I should be doing that, not now. And what if I went and it was the right thing for me, but it broke us up? Like, the distance?_ ”

“ _So you broke us up anyway_.”

“ _You left, Ben.”_

He shrugs, and Hero squeezes Balth’s hand. Hard.

 _“Look,”_ Ben glances back down to the table. “ _I love you too, okay? Of course I love you. But if you’re not sure about us, then what the fuck do I do with that? It’s been ten years, Beatrice.”_

_“Nine.”_

Ben snorts. _“Twelve, if we’re getting picky_.”

“ _I love you.”_

_“That doesn’t fix everything.”_

_“I know.”_

Hero groans, drops her head to John’s shoulder. Balthazar isn’t sure if he wants to hug Beatrice or strangle her.

“ _Look, I – I love you. And I know, don’t say it again, I know. But I do, and I want to be with you forever. Forever, Ben. I just don’t get how to do everything else, like where do we live and what do we do and what’s the plan? I don’t have a plan, we don’t have a plan.”_

John clicks his tongue, and Balthazar wants to ask but doesn’t. The wind is getting stronger and Beatrice’s hair blows around her face, obscuring it from the camera lens.

_“What do you want, Bea?”_

_“Please come home.”_

_“I didn’t say-“_

_“That’s what I want, you dick. Come home.”_

_“Well then.”_ Ben has that sly little smile, and Balth has no idea why.

“ _What?”_

_“We’ll call that step one.”_

_“Step one of what? Stop looking at me like that, Ben, you’re not being funny.”_

_“Sorry. I meant, step one. Of the plan.”_

_“The plan?”_ Beatrice pushes her hair back from her face, and they’re finally smiling at each other.

_“Well, you’re the one that keeps talking about it. So if I come home, what happens then? And if you say you love me again, I’ll stamp on your foot.”_

_“If you come home, we… I guess we have to talk about it.”_

_“I’m talking.”_

_“That doesn’t fix everything.”_

_“Oh, touché.”_

John rolls his eyes at Balthazar.

_“Fine, no. Okay. Step two. We decide where we want to live.”_

_“I like Auckland. I like the flat, actually. Stay here, until something better turns up?”_

_“Yeah.”_ Ben smiles that small smile again, and Bea scoots a little closer. Balthazar holds his breath.

“ _And what we want to do. Are we doing it?”_

_“Are you?”_

Ben leans into her, just slightly. _“Yep. I know I said – well, you know what I said – but I like it. It works. Are you?”_

 _“Yes.”_ Bea scratches her wrist. _“Yeah, I am. It just feels a bit weird.”_

_“Step three: good with the weird. Weird is good.”_

_“You’re weird. So what’s step four?”_

_“Well.”_ Ben’s almost there now, elbows just brushing on the table. _“All the other stuff. Like, we really need to eat more vegetables because Dad has been scaring the shit out of me. And, if I’m being honest, I’d quite like a cat again.”_

 _“We could get a cat.”_ Beatrice moves in. _“Step four: vegetables. Step five: cat. Step six…”_

 _“You’re messing up the symmetry, Bea.”_ But he kisses her on the cheek, and she flushes.

_“Stop it. We give it six months. In six months... we can discuss the marriage thing.”_

Ben’s jaw drops. Balthazar’s too. “ _You’re serious_?”

“ _I said discuss_.”

“ _So no wildly extravagant public proposal? Moonlight, rose petals, ring on the wing of a dove_?”

“ _Shut up, Benedick_.”

“ _Make me_.” And she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming next time: well, it is New Years' Eve. I think everybody has earned a party.


	7. come live with me and be my love

>   
>   "Come live with me and be my love,  
>    
>  And we will all the pleasures prove,  
> 
> 
> _\- The Passionate Shepherd to His Love_

 

Balthazar reaches across. “Okay, turning the camera off now. That’s definitely private.”

Hero is full on weeping, tears streaming down her face. John looks down at her. “Hey, don’t cry.”

“I’m just – I’m just so – they’re _so_ –“and she buries her face in his chest. John laughs, and pecks the crown of her head. _That’s new_ , Balthazar thinks.

“So what do we do now?” John’s looking at him, whilst Hero rubs her eyes. Balthazar nods in her direction.

“I dunno, Hero’s in charge. What’s next?”

“Now –“ she sniffs, hard, and straightens up. “Now, we wait for them to leave. And then we celebrate.” She dives under the table for a moment and then re-emerges, carrier bags in both hands. Balthazar smiles; only Hero would have found the time during this whole escapade to go shopping.

“What’s in there?”

“Supplies.” She passes one to him and the other to John. “I hope you’re good at blowing up balloons.”

 

* * *

  

When Ben and Beatrice finally emerge from the courtyard it’s to rapturous applause from the three of them, and an onslaught of balloons and confetti. Hero even brought Balthazar a kazoo. They stop in their tracks.

“Where, where did you come from?” Ben’s arm is wrapped around Bea’s waist, her head against his shoulder. She looks tired, Balth thinks, but she’s still smiling.

“This is your welcome committee,” Hero sniffs again, wiping her eyes. “Plus, somebody had to make sure you didn’t kill each other.”

“Were you _spying_ on us?” Beatrice raises an eyebrow to Hero. John and Balthazar catch each other’s gaze, and try very hard not to grin.

“Pot, kettle,” says John.

“You should have guessed, really,” adds Balthazar.

Ben frowns at him. “This better not be on Youtube.”

“Strictly private.” Bea doesn’t look entirely convinced, but nobody’s started shouting yet. Hero grasps her arm.

“I’m so, so happy for you.” The affection in her voice is enough to make Balthazar suddenly feel a little upset himself. He wants very badly to be back with Peter, to make sure he knows all of this.

“I love you, Hero.” Beatrice is suddenly serious, pulling her into an embrace. Ben is dragged along, refusing to let go of his newly reclaimed girlfriend, and he reaches a hand out to Balthazar.

“Come on! Group hug!”

Balth joins in, laughing, and it’s a mess of sweaty limbs and tears and John trying his best to extricate himself with no success whatsoever. Finally, they break apart.

“Okay!” Hero straightens her dress, pink in the face. “We’ve got a celebration party to get to!”

She drags Ben and Bea, still linked, towards the car park and Balthazar is left with John. They’re quiet for a minute, watching their three friends disappear into the distance. Finally, John turns to him.

“You know, we should really get Hugh out of that tree.”

 

* * *

  

As Balthazar rides up the Dukes’ driveway, Peter appears from the garden. He comes to a halt and is almost knocked off his bike by the hug.

“Hey, man, good to see you too.” Peter kisses him, hard and fast.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Peter.”

They make their way towards the front door, surrounded by clusters of the same balloons that Hero had them blowing up at the park. “When did Hero manage to do all this?”

“Oh, her mums did those. You should’ve been here, it was like a full scale operation. If you want to throw a killer party, just bring in the Dukes.”

Balthazar laughs. “Really?”

“Yeah; Bea’s mum and Freddie are getting on like a house on fire.” Peter pushes open the front door and reaches over to a tray positioned by the coat rack. “Do you want a drink? It’s got lychee or something.”

“Thanks. So, Fred got here?” Balthazar can hear a hum of voices around the corner, but for the moment he’d rather be here with Peter. It’s been a long, long day.

“Yeah, she managed to get a flight up last night. And, hey, you’ll never guess who’s here. Costa!”

“Costa? Like, uni Costa?”

“I know! Meg ran into him in town and, well, I think he invited himself actually. I already had to rescue Liz from him twice.”

“We know some weird people.” Peter nods in agreement and Balthazar leans against him, finally letting the relief sink in.

“So, how did it go over there? Ben and Beatrice are being disgusting, so good job.”

“Very, very awkward.” Balth shakes his head. “But lovely, in the end.”

“Ah, romance.” Peter kisses his temple. “Very awkward, and very lovely.”

 

* * *

  

It’s a good party, Peter thinks. There are decorations everywhere, and every time he turns around there’s another drink or a new canape to sample. He could easily go all out tonight, but whenever he reaches for a glass he can see his mum or Balth or one of Hero’s parents in the corner of his eye. So he’s just buzzing, chatting to Meg and Imogen and sneaking away more of those amazing skewer things.

Bea and Ben managed about forty minutes of everybody congratulating them before they snuck off to a corner and they’re still there now. Every so often their voices rise ( _you watched_ Appalachia _without me?_ and _that’s completely insane, there’s no way they could-_ ) and Bea’s dad has to hold her mum back, puts another drink in her hand. It’s getting close to midnight and Antonia’s just turned the television on when there’s Balthazar beside him, tugging at his arm.

“Hey. Come outside?”

He follows Balth through the patio doors to find their friends – Team Love Gods, back together – sprawled across the lawn. Ben’s swiping at Claudio whilst Beatrice laughs. Hero’s taking a photo of them, giggling at whatever Costa's hissing into her ear.

Meg looks up when they arrive and beams.

“Hey, lovers. Settle down everyone, we’re doing resolutions.”

Hero gives a little cheer as John falls back on the grass, scowling. “Resolutions are pointless.”

“They’re fun.” Hero jabs him in the side and he can’t quite keep back his smile. “I’m not sure that I really have any, though.”

“Graduation?” asks Beatrice from the other side of the circle, her head in Ben’s lap.

“Oh, yes. Finish my Master’s. And take more pictures, I suppose. Those are mine.”

“You will.” Balthazar looks up at her and they both smile.

“I want to drink more water,” offers Meg, as the rest of the circle groan. “Hey! I want to eat more organic stuff as well. Have you seen what’s going on with that?“

“You know, pesticides have been the biggest advancement in-“ Ben slaps a hand across Freddie’s mouth before she can continue.

“Balth?” Hero asks, as Freddie bites down on Ben’s hand.

“Just write more, I guess. My own stuff.” He’s laughing at Ben’s screeches, shuffling back into Peter to get out of his way. Bea kisses Ben’s palm, and John smirks at them.

“No need to ask about yours,” he says.

“We’ve got six,” Beatrice replies, grinning smugly up to Ben.

Claudio rolls his eyes. “How long before we can start making fun of you again?”

Ben sticks his tongue out in response, and they return to their earlier bickering. Peter can hear whooping from the party inside, drifting out from the open windows of the house.

_Ten, nine_

Balthazar drops his head to Peter’s shoulder, hands wrapped in his cuffs. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

_Eight, seven_

“Yeah, this is good. I kind of missed it.”

“Me too.”

_Six, five_

“Want to hear my New Year’s resolution?” Peter tugs at a clump of grass, suddenly not quite so sure of himself.

“Sure?”

_Four, three_

“I want to ask you to marry me, some time.”

_Two_

“Is that okay?”

_One_

Balthazar smiles at him. “That’s fine, Peter. That’s just fine.”

 _Happy New Year_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done, somehow, three months after I accidentally lost an entire weekend to writing the first draft of this. Thank you all for your comments and your encouragement - it's been a very weird thing to get back into fandom after this long on the sidelines. I'm sure I'll pop up again at some point or another, but in the mean time please keep writing!


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